Trial in the Skies
by FemaleTitan0
Summary: Booker DeWitt is on his last straw. He messed up, and because of it he is in Columbia's prison. Comstock has Elizabeth, and in the next few days Booker will be put on trial and hung. He knows the mistakes he's made and isn't sure of what to do. He knows his running isn't on the agenda anymore. There's no escaping his problems anymore, and time is running out for him and Elizabeth.
1. Jailed

Sweat dripped down his stone face as he sat in that cell. The anxiety in his stomach was something unfamiliar to him. He'd never felt so nervous, so terrified of his fate. He'd always been strong, never weak. He believed that fear was weak, and only little things scared him. But he wasn't afraid for himself as much as he was afraid for _her_. The girl. Without her, he couldn't have seen what he had seen. Couldn't have changed his heart. He was a different man now because of her. Elizabeth.

Her name was forever branded into his memory. A story that could be told for decades. The beautiful girl with the troubled past. Her story mirrored many, although it's pages were different. The man that first looked upon her was a man on a mission, but now.. he was a man with a wish. A wish that she could have a normal life. The girl was a woman now. All thanks to him. But at what cost? She endured so much suffering and so much betrayal. No young child deserves that struggle.

Booker DeWitt was a man of few morals. He never faltered under anyone's hand. Elizabeth was the only person who broke through his tough barier. She was the woman he had feared and respected all in one moment. She was the person he would never be. They were total opposites, and yet they were one. Her personality shone through all the darkness in this world. All the people that were just like Booker. Not a damn thing would make her innocent again. The light had faded from her glow like a distant memory. It was all his fault. Every single second he lingered, she lost another part of her light.

Booker looked up from his thoughts, the cell walls closing in on his. He wasn't one to be afraid of closed spaces, but the darkness and tightness of the cell made his anxiety worse. He stood from the hard cot, pacing around the room. The ceiling hung low, and Booker's head barely missed the top. He was a large man; another factor that made the small area tidious. Booker cursed himself, feeling another wave of depression hit him like a whirlwind. His head pounded, making the rest of his body feel sore as well. He and Elizabeth had been on the run for what seemed like days. But it had only been at least one, maybe two. He had lost count after all the fights they encountered.

He couldn't look out of the window. The floating city and all of it's inhabitants reminded him of her. Everything reminded him of her. Everytime he looked down at his hands, and at the blue bandage that was wrapped around his right hand. Everything. She was everwhere, implanted in his mind like a tattoo. The scars would never heal. "Come on," He mumbled to himself, "She's just some girl." But she wasn't just 'some girl' and he knew that. With every passing moment, she became more to him than a tool or a mission. She was a friend and an ally.

His feelings about her turned from forced to real. He really did care about her and want to protect her. Even from the first time she was disgusted by him. At first he was annoyed by her persistance and stubborness, but with time it became cute. He didn't want her to stop talking. Everything she said to him was implanted into his brain. She was special to him, but he had failed her. Just like he had done to everything he had ever had in his life. He failed her, and he failed himself. The promises he made to keep her safe, keep her protected. He was a failure. And there was nothing he could do to replace that.

His green eyes skimmed the jail, looking at every inch. He had been in here for almost a week, awaiting his punishments. He was the only one in here, besides a guard that stood by the door, unmoving. He was a lean man, much larger than Booker. The man's blonde mustache twitched over his thin lips. Booker made eye contact with him, and the man sneered. He looked at him like scum. Booker didn't see himself any different than the guard did. He knew he wasn't worthy of anyone's respect. He killed people. People that didn't deserve to die. Everyone wanted him dead, and he even wanted himself to feel pain.

Why now? Why did he feel remorse now? All his life he had enjoyed seeing the blood of his enemies on his hands. Why did this time make it different? Booker sighed, sitting back down on the cott. His hand covered his head, feeling the quick pounding against his forehead. None of his life made any sense to him, much less his past. There was some parts he remembered, and some parts he didn't. Why did he even come to this city in the first place? What had he done before this? What was his purpose here? He knew some answers, but they weren't clear to him. He came to this city in search of a girl, so he could repay debts he owed. All he knew about that was he gambled.

He could remember those nights he'd sit and throw his money away. But he didn't remember faces. He knew of his war past, but not of any faces but those who mattered. He remembered only parts of his life, and to him that was odd. He could barley even remember the important people to him. Only one name made it past all the bariers in his foggy memory. _Anna_. He sighed, putting his face in his hands. Why couldn't he remember anything? What was so hard about his memory that he couldn't grasp?

"I guess I'll never know."

Clearing his throat, he slid off the bandage on his hand. The stab wound had scabbed over, and dried blood surrounded the small cut. He looked down at it, almost smiling. The wound wasn't anything he hadn't felt before, but when he recieved it... Elizabeth had run off shortly after. She was scared to see him fight, but she accepted it fairly quickly. Booker wished he could see her face one last time. She always calmed him down. Something about her smile and gorgeous blue eyes gave him hope.

The door opened, making Booker jump up from his cott. A man walked through the door, nodding to the guard. He allowed him to approach Booker's cell. The man leaned against the cell, staring at Booker. "Hello, Mr. DeWitt." He nodded, standing with his hands by his sides. He didn't need to cause any more confrentation. The man watched him closely, as if making sure he didn't make any sudden moves. "Your trial is set for tomorrow afternoon. A guard will come and retrieve you when we are ready for you," He said. His voice was slick and gruff. Booker nodded, and the man looked towards the guard near the door.

"Make sure Mr. DeWitt is alowed a shower before his trial." The guard nodded, looking up at Booker with the same sneer. It didn't bother him, but it did give him a reason to steer clear of him. The strange man left, the door slamming behind him. Booker stared after him, his head feeling light. A trial. He knew that he would have to be put under a trail, but he didn't think he'd be so nervous. What would he be accused of? What would be his fate? But he knew the answers all too well. He knew there was no forgiveness for what he had done. But his worries didn't stop there.

What would happen to Elizabeth?

He knew that Comstock would never let her go. She will never be the same again. He would turn her into the heir he had always wanted her to be. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd be changed. All her hopes and dreams will be crushed. No hopes, no dreams, no innocence. She will be a living doll, doing things that they make her think is right. Booker wished that her fate could be different, but once they were caught he knew there fates would be damned. There was nothing left of them now. They were only pawns in this world. They weren't the decision makers or the revolutioners. They weren't martyr's. They were just small, unchangable wishers.

The guard slammed on the cell. Booker's eyes stared at the guard. "Lights out, DeWitt," He snarled. The man nodded, watching as the guard cut off the lights. Booker sat down again on the screaching bed, kicking off his boots. The stars shined through the small cell window. Booker didn't look up, refusing to look at it. There was nothing he wanted to see. Everything wasn't beautiful or interesting anymore. It all made him angry. Nothing was beautiful in this life anymore.

He laid down on his back, his arms resting behind his head. The low ceiling seemed high above him now. Grime filled it's creases, but the place was surprisingly clean. Booker sighed, closing his eyes. He tried sleeping, but his body couldn't lie still. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Elizabeth. Her smile, her bright eyes, her tough words that kept him thinking. He chuckled to himself, not wanting to open his eyes. She was his only escape from this god forsaken place. She felt like home to him.

Sleep came to him much earlier than he had expected. He didn't even realize when he had fallen asleep, but he knew that he must be dreaming. He was standing in front of Elizabeth's tower as it fell from the sky. He looked down at his hands, the blue bandage and the wound gone. "What the-"

"Booker?"

He turned around, seeing Elizabeth standing behind him. She wore her light blue dress that she had been wearing the day they met, and her hair was long again. Her blue eyes shined, and her smile made his body feel warm. "Booker!" She screamed, running towards him. When she crashed into him, his body felt rigid as stone. Even as she hugged him, he still stood, motionless. He stared down at her, not knowing what to do. She pulled back from him, staring into his eyes.

"I missed you!" She said, grinning. He smiled, chuckling softly to himself. He ran a hand through her soft, black hair. She was small compared to him, but she was very tough. Booker had misunderstood her many times, but she always proved herself to be stronger than she was. She reached up, touching his face. He remembered the first day they had met. She was so surprised to see him, she touched his face just like she did now. Only this time it was with care instead of intruige.

The young girl stood there, looking as beautiful as ever. Booker stared down at her, unable what to do with himself. He longed to see her face again, and now was the perfect time. But he was nervous. A grown man being this nervous was almost insulting, but he took it as a compliment to her. She always made him feel unusual and different. "What's wrong?" She asked, her eyes softening. Booker shook his head, cupping her cheek. "Nothin'. I missed you too." She smiled, leaning into his touch.

The two stood there for several minutes, not saying anything. Finally, Elizabeth pulled him into another hug. This time, he held her tightly, not letting her go for anything. "Booker?" She asked. He still held her tightly against him, but nodded. "You really are my only friend. I wish we didn't have to leave each other." Her voice was shaky, and her body shook. He pulled away, staring down at her. Tears filled her eyes, and she tried to hide her face from his. Booker sighed, whipping away the tears from her eyes. "Don't cry," He mumbled. She shook her head, whipping them away with her palm. "I'm not crying."

He chuckled, pulling her over to a small bench. The two sat down beside each other. Booker lifted her chin, looking at her soft eyes. She sniffed, trying to push back her tears. He knew that she wanted to cry, but he wouldn't let her. He wanted her to be happy in this moment, not sad. "You listen to me. You're a strong girl. Elizabeth, I mean it. Don't cry. I don't know what is going to happen to me, but I want you to be strong. You gotta be strong for me." His words surprised himself, but with her they seemed genuine. His heart ached to see her like this. He had to give her a last striving hope.

She nodded, swallowing hard. Booker grabbed her small hand, holding it in his. His were large compared to hers, but they fit perfectly. She laughed, letting her fingers curl around his. It wasn't romantic as it was almost fartherly. She always saw him as a protector and a real friend. "What will happen to you?" She asked. Booker shook his head. "I don't know, but don't worry about me."

"How can I not?"

He squeezed her hand. "Just..." He sighed, wishing he had something to tell her. Elizabeth laughed, leaning over and kissing his cheek. He was surprised by her guesture, and he felt an uncomfortable warmth that came once she pulled back. "We should just enjoy this moment together," She said, smiling. He nodded, the warmth still bothering him. She giggled, shaking her head. "Are you blushing, Booker?" The man snorted, letting go of her head. "No," He retorted. Elizabeth laughed, standing up. She grabbed his hands, pulling him up. Booker chuckled, but stood up and followed her.

They walked down the streets of Columbia, holding hands. She loved the feeling of her hand and his. It gave her reassurance and peace. Booker felt nervous as he walked beside her. How long would this dream last, he wondered. He wasn't sure if he could let her go. But he braved through it, relishing the moment. The city was deserted, but they didn't mind. Elizabeth led him to a beautiful park filled with flowers and trees. She sat on the grass, breathing in the smell of the flowers and the air. She pulled him down beside her, looking up at the pretty sky above them.

"Isn't it beautiful, Booker?" She asked. He nodded, watching her as she stared at the sky with that beautiful smile. Booker chuckled, smirking. Elizabeth took down her hair, lying down on her back. She stared up at the sky, then looked over at Booker. "What?" He asked, chuckling again. She shrugged, running her hand through her long hair. "Do you ever feel like there's so much more you could do, but you never got the chance?" Her question stunned him for a moment. He thought for a second, then shrugged. "Sometimes you have to deal with the cards you're dealt." She nodded, looking down at her feet.

"Sometimes I think that if my life were different, maybe I could've made a difference. Maybe I could have had a chance to be myself," She said. Booker nodded, looking at her with sympathy. She laughed, shaking it off. "Of course.. I never would've met you, so maybe my pain was good after all." Her words made Booker feel something he'd never felt before. His heart ached even more for her, but he also felt more admiration for her. She was the best person, and even Booker had to admit that she was very smart. Her mind was aged so far beyond compare. Even his experience couldn't top her maturity. It was hard to believe she was only eighteen.

Elizabeth sat up, her black hair flowing over her shoulders in waves. She leaned her head on Booker's shoulder, breathing a sigh. "Booker, I don't know what I'm going to do without you, but you showed me so many things. Maybe they weren't always the best things, but you did teach me that the world isn't perfect." Booker smiled for the first time in a long time. Her words gave him such a fuzzy feeling. The feeling was new to him, but he wished he would've felt it sooner. It was amazing to have her with him again. Even if it was only for a short time. Her presence gave him a chance to be different. It made him a different person. The person he had always thought was never there.

He lifted her chin, staring into her deep blue eyes. She smiled, laughing softly. "Booker, are you crying?" She asked. The man shrugged, not wanting to know. But he could feel something wet on his cheeks. Crying for him was a sign of weakness, but right now he didn't give a damn. All he cared about was the lovely lady before him. She was a part of him now. A part of him that gave him a feeling of hope and strength. She gave him something to stand for, something to guide him to the right way. The way he was living before was a distant memory now. He just wanted to be the man that she would look up to. He wanted Elizabeth to respect him, just like he respected her.

"Elizabeth, I-"

He couldn't find the words. As he looked at her, she was everything that anyone wished they were. She was the hope that humanity needed. She was everything he needed. Everything that he wasn't. Booker chuckled, trying to tell her what his heart felt. "I-" She smiled, seeing the nervousness on his face. The two sat there for a long time, just staring at each other. He didn't understand this feeling, but he felt like it was always there.

Something special about her that he didn't fully get. He and Elizabeth had a connection that neither of them could describe, but it was an old connection. A connection he had been missing for so long that felt like it was finally recovered. He felt his body fading away suddenly. He became scared. "No," He said, pulling her close. She smiled, tears rushing to her eyes. She leaned forward, but Booker drifted away before she could kiss him one last time.


	2. The Trial

Booker awoke, breathing hard and jumping up from his deep sleep. He touched his forehead, his heart beating against his chest. His hair clung to his head, sweat beading against his forehead. The dream was so real. He looked down at his hands, remembering the feeling of Elizabeth's small hands being intertwined with his. Cursing under his breath, he tried to fight back the feelings that flooded his mind. He tried to fight back the tears that begged to come. He tried to forget her smile. But he knew it was useless.

"I love you, Elizabeth," He breathed. The words that he couldn't utter were still strained on his lips. He wished he would've told her. His love for her wasn't a typical love. He loved her unconditionally, like she was his daughter. He couldn't describe this feeling, but it was a love that had always been there. He was just too blind to see it. He stood up from the cott, groaning. The uncomfortable bed made his body sore, and gave him more pain that he had went ot sleep with. But he didn't care. The dream he had gave him a happier feeling than when he went to bed. He wondered if Elizabeth had the same dream, or it was just his mind playing what he knew of her. He shrugged it off, sliding on his boots.

The guard slammed on the cell later that day, telling him it was time to hit the showers. Booker nodded, turning around so the guard can handcuff him. The cell doors opened, and the guard pulled him along. They walked out of the jail room, towards the showers. The jail was small and had only a few people in each side. Booker was the only one who was put into a special holding cell to keep him away from the others. Once they were at the showers, the guard ordered him to be quick.

"Don't linger, DeWitt. Your trial is in half an hour." The man nodded, waiting for the guard to leave. When he didn't, Booker just chuckled. "I have orders to keep you in my sights at all times," The guard said, unmoving by the door. Booker shrugged, folding his arms across his chest. "I ain't got anything to be ashamed of. Unlike you." The guard narrowed his eyes. "Just shower before I change my mind," He growled. Booker chuckled, nodding towards the guard. The shower relaxed his tense muscles, alleviating the pain throughout his body. The guard stood watch by the door, his body twitching.

Booker approached the guard, fixing his vest. "Enjoy the show?" He asked with a smirk. The guard slammed the cuffs around his wrists again, shoving him out the door. They walked half-way to the jail when the same man from the night before stopped them. "Good, you have him. Comstock has moved his trial to now. We have to get him there now," He said. The guard nodded, handing Booker over to him. The man grabbed him, shoving him down another long hallway.

They entered the court room, and several eyes turned. All of them held bitter stares towards the man in chains. Booker was pulled down to the front of the room, in front of a large stand where the judge would sit. He was then shoved into a chair, and the stranger stood beside him. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Mr. Comstock shall be arriving soon." Booker nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. The eyes bore into him like daggers. He could feel heat pulsating through his skull. He knew why they hated him, and he couldn't be mad at them for that.

Once Comstock had arrived, many of his men also arrived, and someone familiar trailed behind them. Booker jumped to his feet once he saw that familiar face. Elizabeth was being dragged into the court room, forced to stand on the other side of Comstock. Her eyes avoided everyone, but once she saw Booker the tears started to fall. She longed to be able to run into his arms. Booker stared at her, swallowing hard. There were so many things he still needed to say, but he had to stay quiet. The two of them felt miles apart, even though they were only a few feet.

Comstock eyed Booker with pride, his disgusting smirk penatrating his heart. Booker snarled, forcing himself to sit back down. "Good evening, Mr. DeWitt. I will be hearing your trial, and chosing what your punishment will be. You have an oppertunity to be spared, but that oppertunity is very small. I'd chose your words very carefully," He said. Booker nodded, swallowing his pride. Comstock was a rat, but Booker knew him fairly well. He knew that he was narcissistic and cruel. Booker didn't have a chance to live. He knew that from the beginning. He wanted to do this trial so he could show Booker what he was losing.

Elizabeth's blue eyes stared at him, tears falling down her soft cheeks. Booker didn't want to see her cry. It killed him that he couldn't help her. Couldn't hold her like he did in his dreams. Whispers were heard behind his back. The many people in the seats in the back were wishing him dead. He could feel their pain and their longing for revenge. Even though he hated this place and it's content, there were people here who didn't deserve to die. He had taken people's lives who had families and futures. Sighing deeply, he tried to forget about it for now. He would soon meet his faith.

Comstock shuffled some papers and cleared his throat. "You are being charged with countless murders of our many townspeople, and kidnapping of my daughter Elizabeth. You are also charged with the destruction of our city," He said, his voice carrying through the large room. Booker nodded, being forced to stand up by one of the guards. "Would you like to make a quick plead?" He asked. Booker wouldn't plead to anyone, not even for his life. He just took in a deep breath, and spoke. "I'd like to appologize for the pain I caused some people," He said, softly. Comstock nodded, turning to one of his policemen behind him.

"And is there anything else you'd like to appologize for?" Booker swallowed, shaking his head. Comstock chuckled, turning to Elizabeth. "So you don't have any appologies for kidnapping my beloved lamb?" He asked. Booker snarled, but forced himself to not do anything stupid. Elizabeth shook her head frantically, her eyes staring into his. "She came with me. It wasn't kidnapping if it was under her own free will," I said. Elizabeth nodded, not afriad of Comstock. The man chuckled again, looking at Booker. "Mr. DeWitt, my daughter would not have come with you unless you threatened her."

"He didn't threaten me. I went with him on my own behalf."

Comstock turned to Elizabeth, his smile fading. Booker chuckled, his eyes looking into hers. She smiled, but her smile faded once Comstock raised his voice. "You will not speak against me child!" He screamed. Booker lurched forward as Comstock slapped her across her face. She gasped, her hand flying over her cheek. Comstock turned to Booker, smirking. "Your punishment is death by hanging. You're exicution will be tomorrow afternoon." Elizabeth screamed, jumping off of the stand. She ran to Booker, her hands flying around him. He stumbled back, but caught himself on the table. "No! You can't die!" She screamed, clinging to him.

Booker was unable to move or speak. She pleaded for him to stay alive, but there wasn't much he could do now. He was amazing at escaping these situations, but he didn't want to cause her anymore pain. "Booker! No!" She screamed as Comstock's guards pried her from him. Booker swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. He couldn't speak, couldn't call out to her. He was stuck there like a stone. Elizabeth faught against the men, but was no match for the twelve of them. She was shoved out of the door. Murmurs through the many people in the room began to surface. Two guards grabbed Booker and pulled him towards the door.

"You will finally pay, Booker DeWitt!" Comstock called as the doors closed. Booker felt his body tense as he was pulled back to his cell. He could almost hear Elizabeth's screams deep in the back of his mind. He couldn't take it; seeing her like that. It was too much for him. The guards shoved him into his cell, locking it behid him. The man collapsed onto the cott, staring at the ground. His breathing was still forced and heavy. The ball in his throat choking him as he gasped for air. He invisioned Elizabeth's face as she pleaded for a life. She clumg to him like he was her lifeline. Booker tried to shake the image off, but it was too much.

The strange man from before came in almost an hour later. "You're lucky Comstock didn't kill you on the spot," He said. Booker snorted, still sitting on the cot. He hadn't moved from the spot. "The girl is very emotional towards you." Booker nodded, putting his face in hsi hands. The man approached the cell, staring down at Booker. "It's a pity she won't be herself anymore once you're gone and Comstock destroys her hopes and dreams." Booker sneered, looking up at the man. "Shut up!" He screamed. The man straightened his tie, clearing his throat.

"I appologize for offending you. I will come for you tomorrow for your exucution." He left the room, and eveerything was silent again. Booker breathed a heavy sigh, not being able to fight back the tears anymore. He cried softly, hiding his face in his hands. He had never cried this much before in his entire life, but he just couldn't handle the sight of her. Elizabeth was weak and tired. She begged for him to stay with her, hoping that her tears would change things. Crying never solved anything, and unfortunately everone knew this. But that doesn't stop anyone from wanting to.

Booker lifted his head, grining his teeth together. "Damn you, Comstock," He mumbled. He took off his boots, throwing them at the wall. The guard by the door said nothing, only watched him. Booker laid on the cott, wishing he could escape this place. He just wanted to be able to bust through like he always did, rescue Elizabeth, and they could be happy together. But that isn't how life work's. Life is cruel and unjust. The good guys never win. But was he really a good guy? Everyday he felt himself becoming the bad guy every day. But he knew that he was a better man than Comstock. At least he felt remorse for his wrong doing's. At least Booker cared about someone. Comstock didn't care about anyone but himself.

Booker sighed, letting out a scream. The guard silenced him, but Booker just sneered. When did he start giving in to what other people told him? When did he let other's tell him what to do? Booker didn't understand anything that was going on here, but at least he still had his respect. He still longed for a better life for someone other than himself. He wasn't selfish for one god damn day in his life. His sorry excuses weren't there any longer. He was now thinking of someone else's feelings. Even though it killed him inside, at least he was a different person. There wasn't anything that would make him decide anything else. At this point, he would rather die for Elizabeth than get her killed. She was a strong girl. She'd find her way.

His eyes were heavy, and before long he had fallen asleep. He didn't even hear the door to the room open. The guard had fallen asleep as well on the job, but someone else had something to do with that. A sleep dart penetrated his neck, and he leaned against the wall, snoring. Soft footsteps were heard, and a small voice called out to the man in the cell. "Booker! Wake up!" The large man stirred, slowly sitting up. He blinking through the darkness, looking up at the thin figure. The light turned on above them, and his eyes widened. "Elizabeth?" He jumped up, walking to the cell. The young girl smiled, opening the cell door. She walked inside, looking up at him. "Hello," She said. He didn't take another moment. He picked up her small body, squeezing her tight against him.

She laughed, hugging him back. The two stood there for minutes, embracing each other. Finally, Booker pulled back to stare at her face. "How did you get here?" He asked. "I found some tranquilizer darts and decided to use them to find my way here to you. I needed to see you. I needed to tell you that you still have time. We can escape now, go get the airship and go to New York!" Booker smiled, shaking his head. "I can't. Elizabeth, you're better off without me." The young girl shook her head, pleading with him. "No, Booker, I won't be! I need you! Comstock will turn me into a slave without you! Please, don't leave me!" She clung to him again, sobbing into his chest. Booker sighed, trying to fight back his own tears.

"Elizabeth, I can't. I'm sorry."

She punched his chest repeatedly. "Where's the Booker I met weeks ago? Where's the Booker that would kill everyone in sight just to get what he wanted?" Booker grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. "And look where that got me! Elizabeth, you're a strong girl. You can fight your own battles. I ain't someone you should be involved with. I ain't gonna let you do somethin' you'll regret. If we leave now, we'll never get away. They'll always find a way to get to you," He said. She shook her head. "We have to take the chance. Booker, I'm nothing without you!" He sighed, wishing he could take her pain away. There wasn't anything he wouldn't give to do what she wanted, but he couldn't.

He grabbed her shoulders again, this time less forceful. He looked into her eyes. It was like he was looking into a complete opposite of himself. She was someone he would never forget. A version of himself that he only wished he could've been. Elizabeth was a strong girl, but she didn't deserve any of this. "Elizabeth, I can't tell you what to do. All I can do is keep you safe until I can't anymore. I ain't lettin' a damn thing hurt you, but I gotta let you go. You gotta let me go. I'm doing this because I love you, Elizabeth." His words stunned her. Her blue eyes widened with shock. "Y-Y-You..." She whispered, tears rushing to her eyes, "You love me?"

Booker sighed, looking down at the floor. When he looked back at her, she was smiling through tears. "I love you too." She hugged him, her tiny arms linking around his neck. Booker smiled, rubbing her back gently. He sat back on the cott with her in his lap, the two not talking for a long time. Elizabeth finally broke free from the hug, whipping away tears from her eyes. "Thank you," She said, "You were my only friend. You showed me a lot of things, but I wouldn't change our little adventures for the world." He smiled, moving strands of hair from her face. She looked beautiful under the light of the moon. "Why do I feel like we've been together recently?" She asked. Booker shrugged, deciding not to tell her about his odd dream.

"You probably just missed me too much." She giggled, nodding her head. Her hand grabbed his, squeezing it tightly. "I really will miss you," She said. He nodded, kissing her cheek. "I'll miss you too." She layed her head on his shoulder, breathing a heavy sigh. They stayed together until morning light shined through the window. Elizabeth laid down beside him on the small cott, her head on his chest. Booker ran a hand through her hair, looking up at the cieling. "You need to go," He said to her. She nodded, but didn't want to move. Booker chuckled, hugging her one last time. She stood up, looking up at him. "Goodbye, Booker." He nodded, kissing her forehead. She left the room, slowly shutting the door.


	3. His Execution

Booker had sat on the cott for several hours after Elizabeth left. He didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to stay with him forever. Cursing himself, he shamed his actions. He could've escaped with her. They could have went to Paris, and ran away together. But he had to be supid and unselfish. His heart wayed heavy, unable to resist the urdge to feel sorry for himself. Why did he have to change? Why did his heart, that was cold, now feel warm and defeated. Elizabeth was all he ever had that made sense in this world, and she was gone.

The man can to his cell, requesting his attandance to his own demise. Booker stood up from the cott, nodding his head up at the man. He slid on his boots, rulling up his sleeves and huffing. The man nodded to the guard, and he was cuffed again like before. Booker followed the man, looking at his feet. The walk was quiet, neither men talking. Finally, the stranger spoke. "I may not know everything you did, but anyone who makes such a connection with Mrs. Comstock.. must have a special quality that we can't see," He said. Booker shrugged his shoulders, his green eyes falling to the ground again.

The man didn't care if his pride was lost or his dignity. All he wanted was to get it over with. He wanted the pain he felt to go away. Even if that meant dying. He'd die for Elizabeth any day. The stranger spoke again, quietly lighting a cigarette. "You are a strange man, Mr. DeWitt, but I suppose everyone has their evil's. Comstock has a beef with you that no one understands, and I was never one to believe his prophocies. I don't know what or who you are, but I do know that we've all under estimated you." Booker watched the back of the man's head, trying to understand him. His words were genuine, and there was a gentle kindness to them as well.

Booker opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. He didn't know this man well enough to give him any praise. The man was just giving his moral opinion. Booker just nodded, quietly walking along beside him. The stranger was lean, but much smaller than Booker was. His hands were small, but by the way he carried himself showed that he could protect himself. The man's forearms were half the size of Booker's, and he was an inch and a half shorter. Although, Booker had seen many men such as him that could do decent in a fight.

The man's dark blue eyes shimmered with an unrepresent light. It reminded him of his own. So much story to be told, but little to say about it. The eyes were a window to the soul, as some said, but these eyes weren't whispering anything. They held so much pain and so much torture. You can't mimic the look of a pure sadist. He was a handsome man with dark black hair that fell around his pale skin and short face. The bridge of his nose and chizzled cheeckbones mirrored a statue. Booker had learned to never judge a book by its cover, but it was hard to when that book was so perfect.

There wasn't anything bad about the man beside him. His body was in perfect aline, from his head to his feet. There wasn't a single part of his body with anything faulting or destroyed. Booker looked away, his eyes adverting the man. The more he stared, the more he became curious. Who was this man and where did he come from? The man looked at Booker now, studying his body. He compared himself to his own body structure, much like Booker did. Only his intent was for study. He had only heard about Booker through rumors from the townspeople. He was smaller than they described, but more broad than he suspected.

Booker's body was built for mass destruction. His shoulders were half the man's size, and his fists when clenched were like bricks. No one would last in a fight with him unless you were a body builder. Even then it would be an equal fight. He wasn't perfectly handsome, but he had fair like qualities to him. The man suspected that he wasn't confident in himself to show his looks, but also didn't give a damn enough. Booker was an older man, in his late thirties. And from what the man could gather, he's seen a lot of things. The man was only in his late twenties, but has seen almost as equal amount as Booker has.

The two men were similar in many ways, but different in others. They were intellegent, but not intelligent enough to understand science or conceptual thinking. Each of them were street smart, mostly from their experiences. Booker has had too much blood on his hands, and the stranger had only had few. The stranger stared down at his hand, then back up to the direction they headed. He started to doubt Comstock's ideas. Booker wasn't half the man that he made him out to be, but what did he know. The man had only seen Booker every so often now. It wasn't what he had done though, but for what Elizabeth had. The young girl clung to Booker with frantic eyes. She couldn't go on without him. No monster has that effect on people.

The man shook his head. No, he thought, I must stick to the job at hand. Booker is to be hanged for his crimes. The man snarled, pulling the larger one along. They made it to the gallows, everyone awaiting their arrival. Comstock stood in front of the noose, smirking devilishly at Booker. The man sneered, avoiding his eyes. He couldn't look at the rotten snake. All he was to him was a mad man. He was nothing short of evil. There wasn't anything real to his ideas. All of them were faked, and Booker knew it. Prophacies weren't fortold, they were written in ignorance. One single man can not harness the power to see to the future or speak to the dead. He was a traitor, and he was playing God.

Booker was thrown on his knees in front of Comstock. The stranger grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at him. "You know this is what you deserve. Do anything stupid and you'll get much worse," He said. Booker sneered up at him. "Tell me who you are." The man stood up straight, looking down at him. His face was grave and unmoving. "Since you are about to be executed... I will tell you my name. It's Slate." The man winked, throwing on his hood. Booker's eyes widened, and he watched the man walk down the stairs. Booker's heart pounded against his chest. He knew he'd seen the man before. He looked so familiar, but he couldn't understand from where. But Slate wasn't that young. He wasn't even that young when Booker first met him.

His memory flashed back to the war. Wounded Knee. Blood. So much blood. Booker groaned, feeling pain all over his body. Something wet dripped down his face and onto the floor. "Huh?" He looked down, his eyebrows furrowed. "A n-n-nosebleed. Again?" Booker's nosebleed's were triggered by something. He was sure about that. But what he wasn't sure about was what those triggers were. His head pounded and he wanted to know more. He was about to die, didn't he have that option? Comstock ordered his guards to get Booker to his feet. He turned to the crowd, calling out to them.

"Today, the city of Columbia will get their vengence on Booker DeWitt, the False Shephard! Never will he again steal our heir and take over this city! We will make him pay for the lives that were lost because of his foolishness!" He cheered. Everyone else roared, tension rising in the air. Booker swallowed, looking down at his feet. Blood no longer dripped down his face, and it was beginning to dry against his face. Why was this happening? This didn't make any sense to him. The debts, the alcohol, the blood, the girl. Nothing was right.

Booker's head pounded harder as he tried to process it. Tried to make sense. Tried to understand. Comstock turned to him, looking him in the eye. "Are you ready, DeWitt?" The man nodded, his sneer saying it all. The noose was tied around his neck, and the crowd became silent. Booker took in a deep breath, his hands shaking through the cuffs. The guards stood around the gallows, just incase Booker had made a run for it. But this man was done running. He was done fighting for something that didn't make sense to him. He was finally going to be free.

Breathing again, he closed his eyes and listened. Listened to the heavy breathing of those around him. Listened to the faint whispers of the watching people. And he listened to the sound of his heart pounding against his solid chest which rose with each breath. Booker wasn't afraid of death. He welcomed it with open arms. He didn't want to be in this world any longer. There was nothing for him here anymore. It was all a mystery that he couldn't uncover. His past, the future, and his gaping holes in his memory. They would never be anything more than holes. Deep, empty crevices that stayed there in the caverns of his mind.

Comstock's hand rested over the lever, waiting a second more. Booker stood there, opening his eyes. The crowd cheered Comstock, begging him to pull the lever. The old man smirked, looking over at Booker. "Any last words, DeWitt?" He asked. The man shook his head. "I ain't got a damn thing to say to you." The old man laughed. "You always had a way with words, Booker." He pulled the lever, and Booker took one last breath. The air felt sweet against his lips, and he treasured his last breath. Wind whipped past him, and he waited for the pain to come.

"No!"

A figure jumped down from the sky, breaking through the open field. Booker felt his body falling to the ground, and he struggled to catch his grip. His body collapsed to the wooded floor with a thud. He groaned, blinking his green eyes. He watched as a figure, armed with a skyhook, fought off several guards. Comstock stood in horror, watching them maliciously murder them all. When the damage was done, Booker began to lose conciousness. His vision blurred and faded. The figure stood in front of Comstock, shoving the skyhook to his throat.

"Any last words, Comstock?" The person growled. Their voice was muffled, and Booker couldn't make out who it was. The old man screamed as the person cut open his throat, slamming him to the ground. Everyone in the field screamed, running away from the monster. Booker grumbled and moaned, still unable to move. The figure kneeled in front of him, looking down at his body. "Booker, stay with me... Booker!" He faded back out of conciousness just as the person began to drag him across the floor to saftey.


End file.
